Double Crossed Fool
by Utenakun
Summary: Alucard stews over victims past, present, and with any luck, future. 1s.


****

Title: Double-Crossed Fool

****

Author: Utenakun

****

Series: Hellsing

****

Summary: "There is a reason why a human is using me… but… I would never tell you." At some point during or only a little before the series, Alucard stews over victims past, present and with any luck, future.

****

Rating: PG for a little gore, a passing sexual reference or two.

****

Disclaimer: I am not a relative of Kotibo, nor anyone else relating to Hellsing. Therefore, I have no legal ties. Ah, the freedom of fanfiction. o.O;;

****

Notes: I don't think Alucard's _really_ this obsessed. But I do think he's Dracula. Bram Stoker references ahoy! (Just don't expect it to _entirely_ match up-- particularly in that he's alive. I figure that since we've seen Alucard 'die' horribly about five or six times by the end of the anime, there's just no way he didn't survive a frigging bowie knife.)

_

If anyone were to ask him about such an ancient event, he would have readily acknowledged that his capture was, in some ways, even convenient. Though it wasn't apparent at the time to the humans who had hunted him, it only made sense that one such as he would have made some formidable enemies in the previous centuries. So while he slept under Van Helsing's care, those vampires accepted his 'ultimate death' as fact. Where they were now, Alucard neither knew nor cared. It was possible one or two would someday hear of him, and actually care enough to come back and settle the score, but that was just him hoping for a good fight.

And once in the laboratory of Van Helsing and his successors, Alucard had been changed from a single vampire with a limited sphere of influence in a backwoods country to an incredibly powerful specimen thriving in one of the great capitals of the world. The power Alucard now wielded thanks to centuries of experiments made a mockery of the power Van Helsing had battled against so desperately, and as for Alucard himself… he loved it. Fighting with such abilities against other vampires was exhilarating, and he was very well aware he could never possibly have grown so strong on his own, even if he had survived to the present century.

But he also knew how deeply he would have resented his servitude, if he could. He had fought so hard to stay out of their clutches-- perhaps he would even have killed himself, had he known his fight for survival would end with a human as his Master. Now, of course, he could not even so much as summon resentment. He followed his Master's wishes and in doing so, made them his own.

Nights like this, medicinal blood simply left him unsatisfied. Of course, he merely had to breathe a word of complaint and the scientists in Hellsing's labs would have tinkered and re-tooled until they had a mixture that exactly replicated whatever type of blood he wished, but the problem wasn't with taste. No, it was the hunt itself he missed. Nights like this, chasing other vampires was like pulling out before the climax: the hunt was there, but where was the reward, where was the soft skin under his hands, where was the warm, fragrant, _living_ blood pumping into his fangs?

Yes; he missed the hunt, worse than ever. There were always nights like this, every now and then, and they inevitably meant no sleep for him come morning. It didn't matter much; there were no scheduled raids for the next few nights. And skipping a day of sleep meant considerably less to a vampire than to a human, anyway.

Alucard rose from the table and eyed the drained pouch with distaste. It had served; he was full. But rarely did blood taste so repulsive to him. Leaning back against the cold stone, he folded his arms and closed his eyes.

Sometimes, they were delicious, like a rare vintage. She had been like that… sweet. Very sweet.

Her name had been Mina, he suddenly remembered, though her bones were dust by now. Mina… he had been a fool back then. With her beautiful long hair and pale, unblemished skin, with that strong, delicately refined face, he'd summarily decided that he would have her whatever the cost. Except that the cost had been clever Van Helsing's realization of his weakness. The cost had been that the humans had exploited his connection with her, and had captured him with it.

Just remembering his mistake he snarled slightly and threw himself back into his ornately carved chair, ignoring the creaking protest of wood. To be sure, she'd been worth it at first; her blood had been absolutely intoxicating. And to see that flash in her eyes when she first whispered "Master"… bewitching. If anything, her revulsion for him only fueled his attraction. Indeed, he rather thought she was never more beautiful than when furious, snarling yet truly helpless to his will. Damn it, he needed to see that, needed to see her perfect hair in disarray, her face flushed in impotent rage as she struggled not to obey him… and lost. Ah, he wanted-- _needed_ to see that once… forever. It could happen, someday. Her, his freedom, all at once-- it _could_ happen. And he had all the time in the world to wait, to be the servant, until then.

"Damn it!" Alucard suddenly swore, sweeping out his hand to force dish, ice and drained pouch right off the table, smashing china the accompaniment to his oath. He _was_ the damned fool, now and forever. Would he never learn to avoid Hellsing's bait?


End file.
